


Mastering Passions

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Angry Sex, Breathplay, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Season 4 Episode 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: George is angry with Ben about Arnold, and Ben doesn't like to leave it that way.





	Mastering Passions

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked on tumblr to write a sex scene of these two after their fight in the Season 4 premier, and this is what I've come up with. I envision this as part of the 'verse I created in Expectation of the Night (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718785?view_full_work=true), and the night in Valley Forge I reference is Chapter 7 of that fic. You don't need to read that fic to understand this one, just know in my mind between interrogating Gamble and Shanks and Sackett's death, George and Ben had very angry sex.
> 
> Anyhow, Thank you tumblr Nonny for the prompt, and to my hubby for helping me with the awkward passages.
> 
> I don't own these characters.

**By Vera d'Auriac**

 

George didn’t seem to care that Ben had assured him that he and Caleb would succeed in Setauket. Why did George have to be so impossible about that ridiculous letter? Yes, Ben had kept Arnold’s letter a secret from George because he truly did give it no regard, but also because he feared this very reaction. How, after all they had been through, the love they shared, could George still allow his jealousy to control him like this? Frankly, Ben was furious—furious Washington didn’t trust him, furious that he would focus on something so trivial when so much was at stake personally and professionally.

They had only continued to grow closer after their return from Philadelphia. Every chance they could find, they were together, hands searching under shirts and down pants, mouths finding each other only to move onto more sensitive places. And when it had come time to deal with Major Andre, George had seen him executed as a spy, in no small part because he knew how personally Ben took the matter because of Nathan. So how had they come to this moment? Yes, George had been off since Arnold’s defection—they all had—but he had never taken it out on Ben before.

_I have to see him before I leave for Setauket._

Ben sent Caleb off to deal with the Colonel about their troops and to get Anna so they all might discuss the raid together later, but for now, he must get back to George. Too much could happen on any mission, and Ben didn’t think he could leave things with George the way he just had. He wanted his last sight of George to be something, anything, other than the horrible scowl that had dismissed him earlier.

When he returned to headquarters, Ben went straight for the office only to have a sergeant standing outside inform him that “General Washington is not in.” Ben scowled and asked where the General had gone, but the sergeant simply said, “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

With a grimace, Ben pushed past the guard and entered the office to find Colonel Hamilton working at George’s desk. He appeared sober and tense, much as he had that morning when Ben had revealed Arnold’s letter. When Hamilton looked up and saw Ben, he frowned and shook his head. “He’s really not happy with you, Tallmadge.”

Ben leaned against the chair at the other desk in the office where he and Hamilton and the other aides often worked. After a long sigh, he said, “I know. Which is why I have to see him. I’m leaving, on a mission, and I don’t like to leave things this way.”

“I understand,” Hamilton nodded. “He’s gone to his room. Says that his lungs are bothering him today, but I don’t really think that’s the problem. But you might, indeed, be the cure. Remind him again how loyal you are, Major. He forgets sometimes, but deep in his heart he knows, just as the rest of us do, that you would never leave him or the Cause for anyone, least of all Arnold.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Take good care of him while I’m gone.”

“Indeed, I will. Safe journey and good luck.”

With a smile and a nod, Ben left the office and headed directly to the stairs, which he took two at a time. He didn’t know how he would assure George, but he would figure something out. Or beat a hole in the wall with one of their heads trying.

He hurried down the corridor and knocked on George’s door, but received no answer, so he knocked a second time, and after glancing around and determining that he was alone in the hallway, added, “George, I need to see you.”  Holding his breath, he waited. And waited. Finally, he put his hand to the doorknob and twisted. Unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

George sat before the fireplace in a straight-backed chair Ben knew to be uncomfortable. He was slouched over and brooding, jacket and boots removed, cravat and shirt collar open, waistcoat unbuttoned. Ben knew these dark moods, which did not plague George often, but occasionally swept over him like a sudden summer storm. If a proper course of action for dealing with George in these moments existed, Ben did not know it, but he would try, nonetheless.

“George, we need to talk,” Ben said, closing and locking the door behind him. “I will be leaving soon—”

“Goodbye, then. Ask one of the guards to come upstairs and stand outside my door so no one else troubles me.”

George’s voice was soft and he refused to look away from the fire, but Ben felt George’s disapproval vibrating in the air. “Did you not hear what I said?” Ben asked, crossing the worn wooden floor to where George sat. “We need to talk.”

And now George’s head snapped around, his fiercest grimace distorting his handsome face. “We have nothing to discuss, Major.”

“George, we have something to discuss. Personally. As you know very well.”

“I know nothing of the kind.”

Ben had seen more compliant toddlers in the midst of a tantrum. This was the man leading their entire army, their entire Cause, the man Ben loved, and he sat there staring at Ben as if daring him to contradict what he had just said. “Then let me explain it to you, George—you owe me an apology.”

This finally garnered a reaction, George bolting out of his chair to loom above Ben, but Ben held his stare, his jaw just as set as George’s. “For what, pray tell, do I own you an apology? You, who kept your correspondence with a notorious traitor a secret from me for over a day?”

“For comments precisely like that one. My ‘correspondence’ with Arnold consists of _receiving_ exactly _one_ letter. I never wrote him back, nor would I. The fact you wish to embellish the situation due to your own pettiness impugns upon my honor.”

“Your honor,” George said, stepping so close, his body brushed Ben’s. Instinctively, Ben took a step back, and George began to slowly stalk him. “Need I remind you that at one point you wished to serve this traitor. Not terribly honorable, I think.”

“You wished to be rid of me,” Ben spat back, even though he knew this was not an entirely fair assessment of the event when Arnold had asked him to be his aide-de-camp. It flashed through Ben’s mind what might have happened had he been Arnold’s aide. Would he have seen Arnold’s treachery and stopped it? Would he have been able to influence Arnold so that he would never have been susceptible to it?  The one thing he knew for certain was that he would not have been seduced by it under any circumstance—he loved the Cause of America far more than any man, even George. _I think. God, please do not test me on this point_.

Ben’s back ran into the wall, and he lost his breath for a moment as George pressed hard against him. “A lie, and you know it is,” George hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ben? If Arnold means nothing to you, why hide the letter from me?”

“I didn’t hide it. I simply didn’t mention it, because it wasn’t important, and I knew you would react like this.”

“You did not tell me, because you knew I would be angry.” George bent his head forward and panted his next words against Ben’s neck. “Because you knew I would have cause.”

“Because I know you can be a jealous fool.” Ben grabbed George’s jaw and forced his face toward his own. “I love you, and you refuse to believe it. What kind of proof do you need?”

George pushed his head down, and Ben could not, or would not, stop their lips from meeting. The kiss was hard and angry, and it reminded him of that night in George’s tent before Sackett died. George had ravaged him—fucked him and used him, choked him and left him a confused, boneless mess. It had been one of the most exquisite sexual experiences of his life, and one he had both wanted repeated and wanted to utterly avoid. He didn’t want to be angry with George, but the passions they both felt naturally could overwhelm them, so that when they both felt excessively passionate simultaneously and directed it at each other, the result was extraordinary.

But now Ben would not withstand George’s passions as he had that night in Valley Forge. Then he had offered his body to George’s anger because he had known no better. He understood so much more now, and their relationship had changed. After their trip to Philadelphia to see Congress, George had let Ben fuck him, and it had been beautiful. Since then, their private relationship continued to grow steadily toward parity in a way their professional lives never could, even if George appreciated Ben’s unvarnished opinions. Tonight, Ben would be the one taking his anger out on George. George was at fault, so why should he not be the one to ease Ben’s passions?

So when George pressed on Ben’s shoulder, trying to push him to his knees, Ben resisted. “No. Help me take off my clothes,” Ben said breathlessly through damp lips.

“You do not say ‘No’ to me,” George responded, but Ben couldn’t contain a smirk when George set to unbuttoning his waistcoat as requested.

Ben shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. As he unbuckled his belt so his sword might join his jacket, he said, “I’ll say what I want. And do what I want.” He leaned in to nip at George’s neck, which produced a satisfactory hiss of pleasure. “You owe me, George, and tonight I take it.”

His waistcoat open, George set to work on Ben’s pants, but at the same time, he slammed Ben hard into the wall. Before Ben could even catch his breath, George’s mouth was over his, his face and shoulders pinning Ben in place while hands immobilized him in a different way lower. _It’s too easy to forget how strong he is. And, God, his hands!_ Ben gasped when George pulled his almost fully erect cock out.

“I owe _you_? I give you more pleasure than you have known the rest of your life combined, and yet you keep secrets from me. Tell me the truth—you still pine after Arnold, don’t you?” George pulled and twisted on Ben’s cock, giving equal parts delight and pain.

“Never.” As much as Ben didn’t want to stop George, longed to keep the strong, callused hand on his cock, he couldn’t stand for such an insinuation. Ben shoved George away, and for a moment debated if he wished to continue or leave. George’s panting, wet lips, curled down in a scowl decided him, and Ben adjusted himself so that he might pick up his right foot and yank off his boot. He flung it to the floor and then repeated the gesture with the other.

Ben took a step toward George, and he must have looked as furious as he felt, because George flinched back. Using this momentum, Ben began steering George to the bed. “I never wanted Arnold, as a commander or a lover. All I’ve wanted since the day I joined this army is you. And yet you don’t appreciate me. You say you cherish me, but you don’t trust me.” George startled as he ran into the bed, and Ben took the opportunity to lunge forward and grab George’s pants and begin opening them. “If you want your release tonight, you will have to apologize.”

“Apologize to you?” George said breathlessly against Ben’s lips. “I think you will be begging me to spend before that ever happens.”

Ben yanked down George’s pants and underclothes, shoving them over the broad thighs, revealing a cock that wanted Ben as badly as Ben wanted it. “On the bed.”

“Yes, Benjamin. On the bed with you.” And in one fluid movement Ben didn’t even see coming, George grabbed his upper arms and pivoted around, dropping Ben on the bed. “You cannot overcome me, so you had best stop trying. Admit you were wrong, and I promise to spend down your throat, just how you like.”

George was about to straddle Ben, and once he did so, Ben knew he would have lost the upper hand physically. So he bolted upright, and using George’s momentum against him, pushed hard on his shoulder. In this way, Ben propelled George over his body and onto the other side of the bed. And now it was Ben’s turn to pounce, laying his body flat atop George’s for balance before spreading his legs to either side of George’s thighs. His left hand shot up around George’s neck. “What were you saying about throats?” Ben rolled his hips, pressing his still clothed cock against George’s bare one. George had no problem letting out a groan, even with Ben’s grip.

“Pull my pants down,” Ben told George.

“No.”

George’s defiant smirk faded when Ben tightened his grip, not enough to cut off the air, but enough to make George think about him doing so. Ben stared down at George, unflinching, unwilling to lose this battle. He finally won it when he shifted his hips once more against George’s bare erection, and George’s eyes rolled back as he bit his lip.

Tugging with his magnificent hands, George had pants and underclothes over Ben’s hips in a moment. Ben wanted to do so much with George beneath him, but he did not know how long their fire and his advantage might last. He just wanted to move against George, feel the friction and warmth of another body until he spent, but he also wanted to fuck George mad, much as he’d been fucked that night in Valley Forge. _I want everything. To hurt him and to love him, just like he has done to me_.

Ben dropped atop George and ravaged him with kisses and bites, sucking at his neck and licking his mouth. George squirmed beneath him, sinking his fingers into Ben’s backside and pulling him closer, forcing their cocks to rub against and leak on one another. Ben could easily get lost in the sensation, but he must stay focused and plan for what to do next. There must be some way for them to work out their anger and find pleasure at the same time; he just did not know how.

As if reading his mind, George said, as Ben worked bites along his collarbone, “You are still such a confused child, aren’t you? Just going to rub off against me like some starry-eyed boy? No wonder Arnold turned your head.”

Ben bit deeper, pushed harder with his hips, now questioning if George simply continued to bring up Arnold, not because he harbored genuine suspicions, but because he wanted to prod Ben to greater anger. Whatever the case, he knew one thing for certain—they could not simply stay as they were now. _But what?_

Ben peeked over George’s head at the narrow table. Nothing was set out, but Ben knew where the oil was kept, and he could easily reach the drawer. Thrusting hard against George to hopefully keep him distracted briefly, Ben stretched out, his fingers finding purchase on the lip of the not quite closed drawer, and pulled out what he sought. He thrust once more and bit George’s throat while he worked the stopper out of the bottle.

Now for the tricky part.

Ben hooked his right foot around George’s left leg, slipped to the side, and quickly heaved, flipping George onto his stomach before he had the opportunity to react. Ben kicked his pants and underclothes free as he scrambled onto George’s back, slotting his cock with the cleft of George’s ass. They were breathing hard, yet the sensation elicited a moan from both of them. Ben longed to fuck George, but he didn’t trust George to remain compliant while being prepared, and he well knew that a lack of preparation wouldn’t be pleasurable for either of them. Not to mention, his own fury demanded release sooner. Biting and sucking with every intent to bruise George’s spectacular shoulder blades, Ben snatched up the oil, spilling far more than intended, but managing to get enough poured onto his fingers that he could slick up his cock.

Forcing his hand between George’s thighs, Ben created space for himself, and he thrust. There was just enough friction between his legs, and then Ben pushed along George’s balls, which garnered a deep groan into the pillow. And then when the head of Ben’s cock hit the mattress, it sent another shiver up his spine. This might never be the same as fucking or being fucked, but it felt so good, Ben had to immediately slow himself down so that he didn’t spend before he had even gotten properly started.

Ben dug his fingers into George’s shoulder and used it as leverage to thrust. It sounded as if George were a panting wreck under Ben, and he thought about how he might bring George to his climax. He couldn’t reach George’s cock with his hand at this angle, but every thrust Ben made had to be pressing George into the mattress, that friction quite likely enough to make him spend. But George had boasted he would come down Ben’s throat, and Ben still wanted his apology. How to thwart George while getting what he wanted before they both came in great waves all over the bed was Ben’s new problem.

“Is that all you’ve got?” George asked, his face turned so that one cheek pressed into the pillow and the other glowed with sweat in the candlelight. “I’ve had enthusiastic puppies hump my leg with more force. You are something like an eager puppy though, aren’t you, Benjamin?”

Ben thrust as hard as he dared, knowing the head of his cock would be driven into the mattress. But at the same time, he pulled hard on George’s queue, making him flinch in pain and exposing his throat. “Would you like me to be rougher? Because I can accommodate you.” Ben bit the neck under his lips, but after an initial sigh of pleasure, George chuckled.

“I sincerely doubt that you can. But by all means, do try.”

Ben sat back on his heels and pulled George up by the hair. This received a yelp, but Ben could not say for certain if it came from pain or shock. _Does it matter? Just show him you more than a puppy awaiting his master’s approval._ “You should know better than to challenge me,” Ben hissed in George’s ear before reaching around to pinch a nipple hard. He pulled back again on the queue. “You should think about apologizing.”

“To a puppy in heat? I do not think so.”

Pulling George tight to his own chest, Ben thrust back between the hard thighs, George’s delicious legs stronger and more glorious than most men’s half his age. It felt so good, Ben wondered why he hadn’t thought to do this sooner. “You will apologize,” Ben said, digging a fingernail into George’s hard nipple, “or I’ll never let you spend.”

“You should stop rubbing where you are if you do not wish for me spend,” George chuckled.

“Does that feel good?” Ben asked, deliberately dragging his cock slowly back and forth along George’s balls. George shivered in his arms. “I can tell it does. But you forget that I know you, and you will live on edge the entire night, never really threatening to spend, until I touch you.” Ben wrapped a hand around George’s throat once more, realizing that he loved how George’s Adam’s apple felt when he swallowed. “So you had better say you are sorry for doubting me, or I will leave you here utterly unsatisfied.”

When Ben thrust again, George whimpered, so he thrust harder, gripped tighter around the throat, dug deeper into the nipple. George panted, but remained silent. Ben could feel George trembling in his arms. Ben wanted this, needed the victory, longed for this release. “Say it, George. Say you are sorry. Apologize to me. Admit you were wrong.”

“Oh God! I…Ben, I…oh.” George sobbed, and Ben just squeezed, attacking him with more force from every direction. “Ben, touch me. Please. If you don’t, I’ll just do it myself.”

At that threat, Ben released throat and nipple, encircling George’s wrists like manacles. “You will do no such thing.” Ben jerked his hips, his cock ready to explode between George’s thighs. “Just apologize, George. Just fucking do it.”

“Alright! I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry.”

Ben clutched harder, wrapping both of their arms around George’s stomach so he might push more fiercely with his hips. “For what, George? Say for what.”

“For doubting you about Arnold. I’m sorry. I will never doubt you about him again.”

Freeing George’s wrists, Ben slid his left hand to one of George’s oh so sensitive nipples and twisted. The other, as promised, went directly to George’s aching, twitching cock. And now Ben could move them in rhythm together, his hand mirroring his hips, so they writhed in tandem, both aching for release.

George came first, with a deep groan from his throat followed by a nearly breathless whimper. Barely had his climax ended than Ben’s began, both of his hands now free to press into the front of George’s thighs, pushing his legs just a touch closer together while forcing George back against his ready cock. And when he came, Ben bit into George’s shoulder, leaving another mark of his passion—the anger and the love—temporarily marking George as his own.

Ben shuddered, no longer able to hold George upright, and they both collapsed back to the mattress, covered in sweat and spend, muscles and mind both rebelling against further strain.

For at least a full minute, they both merely lay there, breathing, trembling. The cloud in Ben’s mind slowly began to lift, and the first thought he had after how utterly amazing he felt, was that he had broken George. His lips started to curl in the slightest smile, not because he ever desired to dominate George, but because this marked another step in the parity of the relationship. It had become increasingly clear that the both wished to submit some nights and to control on others, and the more flexible they could both be, surely the better they could satisfy each other.

Ben turned his head to look at George who was also sprawled on his back, staring at the ceiling. His breathing seemed to have evened out, and the glisten of sweat was fading from his skin, and likely making him chill. Raising his head from the mattress and searching the room, Ben spotted a towel hanging from a hook near the fireplace.

He kissed George’s temple, ready to crawl over him and out of the bed so that he might fetch the towel and clean them both off, but George’s scowl at being kissed stopped Ben awkwardly perched on all fours. “What is wrong?”

George turned his face away. “Nothing is wrong.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

George sat up, planting his feet on the floor as he settled himself at the edge of the bed. Shaking his head, he said, “You hurt me no more than I hurt you that night in Valley Forge.”

Scurrying to get upright and closer to George, Ben gently placed his hand in the middle of George’s chest. “Then I hurt you, no matter how good I also made you feel.” He kissed George’s shoulder. “That wasn’t my intention. I was just so _furious_ , and we have these passions.”

George put his hand atop Ben’s, pressing it more firmly to his skin. “You were furious with reason. You did not actually hurt me, but what we just did hurt, because of my own pain and shortcomings. I’ve never been a jealous man until now, and I do not know how to deal with this insidious sensation.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I trust you when I am myself. Arnold makes me not myself. This war….” George trailed off, swallowing emphatically as though to stop himself from weeping, but a tear crept free from the corner of his eyes nonetheless. “Sometimes, I am lost.” He squeezed Ben’s hand until it ached. “Forgive me.”

Ben kissed George’s cheek, firmly and long. “Of course.”

George choked on the breath escaping him as he suddenly exhaled and he tried to cover it with a laugh until he coughed. Once calmed, he turned to Ben and brushed his fingers along Ben’s jaw. “Thank you.” He kissed Ben lightly on the lips. “And now you must go. You have a raid to plan, do you not?”

Ben smiled, tilting his forehead against Washington’s. “I do,” he said with eyes closed, breathing deliberately, both to calm himself and soak in the scent of George. “I will soon return in success.”

“I’ve no doubt, Ben. I’ve no doubt.”


End file.
